


Kaysh'tayli

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Conversations, Gen, Memories, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Post-Canon, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 22:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16334012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: The kaysh'tayli are those who remember.





	Kaysh'tayli

**Author's Note:**

> Introducing my OC, Haastal!

“Look at you, all full up with ghosts.”

Haastal turns, his hand frozen with the rag still soaking the bar top.  “Sorry?”

“You’re carrying a lot of ghosts in you, boy.  You ought to let somebody else carry them with you.”  The being across from him wears Mandalorian armor, but there’s no weapons on them that he can see.  They look almost like a ghost themselves, pale gold armor gleaming in the dim light, satin-polished and glowing.

“I, uh, I think I can carry them just fine.”

“I can see ‘em, you know.  All those names you carry with you, so they don’t die.  They’re cut right into your skin and bones, so you can’t ever forget, that right?”  They nod sagely to themselves. “See the ghosts like they’re right behind you.” 

Haastal resists the urge to glance over his shoulder.  “Something like that.”

“You’re gonna die one of these days, sooner than most.  All you an’ yours, you all do. Them that made you cursed you like that.  Damn shame, you’re better than them, they just didn’t know it. Ought’n’t carry your ghosts with you when you go.”

He clenches his jaw.  The reminder is a slap in the face, but he keeps his anger buried deep, like always.  “You’re not one of us.”

They tilt their head one way and then another.  “Ru’dinad, kaysh’tayle, been both for a lot longer than you’ve been alive.  Carry a damn lot of my own ghosts. Yours ain’t that different. Ara’nov, Hawk, Night, they were yours, weren’t they, son?”

“Who are you?” he demands, his muscles so tense they ache, his jaw clenched tight as he forces the words out.  “How do you know those names?”

“I’m just somebody carryin’ memories, just like you.”  They hold up their hand, placating. “Tarre gifted ‘em to me, and my clan.  Left me with eyes full of ghosts and a head full of stories.” They tap the side of their bucket knowingly.  

“You’d carry them for me?”  Haastal knows he’s getting older, and he can’t let any of his memories slip away.  He owes it to his vode.

“You got my word, I’ll keep ‘em safe, they’ll be written in the stars,” they promise, “Nobody ought to be forgotten, ‘specially not Mando’ade.  Your vode’ll be safe as I can make ‘em. Haran ain’t gonna get ‘em, not if I’ve still got a thing to say about it.”

He swallows and nods.  “Okay,” he whispers, “Okay.  I’ll tell you.”

“Better get us one of those bottles then.  A good one.” They slide a handful of credits over, and Haastal smiles.  Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. He’s tired of carrying all this alone.

**Author's Note:**

> My headcanons about kaysh'tayli and rudin'ad can be found [here](http://thebisexualmandalorian.tumblr.com/post/172975994817) and [here](http://thebisexualmandalorian.tumblr.com/post/176835485997).


End file.
